


But what, Bishop?

by itturnsout



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itturnsout/pseuds/itturnsout
Summary: “We need to talk.”Gibbs didn’t respond immediately and Ellie was aware of feeling vaguely irritated that he might have shut down, closed off, that she would have to do all the work here and perhaps get nothing back.  But no —“Do we?”Well, that was something, she supposed.  She wasn’t sure if this indicated Gibbs was unwilling to talk, or if he actually thought there was nothing to talk about.  Well, if he didn’t —“I do. Need to talk, that is. With you. About what just happened.”Just a fluffy thing about Bishop and Gibbs getting it on.  Don't like this ship? Don't read it.  This is my first fanfic.





	But what, Bishop?

   Ellie slowly descended the steps into the basement. Gibbs was at the far end of the room, bent over some wooden construction, she couldn’t quite tell what. The rhythmic motion of his arms, backwards and forwards, and the quiet repetitive rasping sounds, told her he was sanding. He didn’t look up, but she knew he would be acutely aware of her presence — he always was, of everyone’s. It was something that had intimidated her initially, but now she admired it, envied it to a point, how his mind and body were so in tune with each other and in their environment. She paused at the bottom of the stairs before she spoke.  
   “We need to talk.”  
   He didn’t respond immediately and Ellie was aware of feeling vaguely irritated that he might have shut down, closed off, that she would have to do all the work here and perhaps get nothing back. But no —  
   “Do we?”  
   Well, that was something, she supposed. She wasn’t sure if this indicated Gibbs was unwilling to talk, or if he actually thought there was nothing to talk about. Well, if he didn’t —  
   “I do. Need to talk, that is. With you. About what just happened.”  
   Gibbs stopped working the wood in front of him and slowly stood upright before turning to her. Now, for the first time this evening, with Gibbs looking at her, Ellie felt nervous.  
   “We kissed, Gibbs.” Ellie felt a blush starting as she stated the obvious. Gibbs nodded almost imperceptibly but said nothing. “Actually, Gibbs, you kissed me. And that took me by surprise —”   
   “You kissed me back,” Gibbs cut her off.  
   “Yes. Yes, I did. I wanted to. I’m surprised because I knew I wanted to. But I never thought you would want to. To kiss me, I mean.” Ellie was aware she was stumbling over her thoughts, her words coming in short, simple statements. She silently chastised herself for the way she was approaching this, but her mind was still reeling. A little more than half an hour before, she had been in the kitchen: Ellie had been staying with Gibbs while her own place was, first, a crime scene, and then uninhabitable. She was making coffee, her head in and out of various cupboards, carrying on, an admittedly one-sided, conversation with Gibbs, who she thought was in the other room, when she had closed a cupboard door, swivelled round and found herself barrelling into him. In a whirl of apologies and surprise, she had stumbled as she tried to step back, but was caught, prevented from falling, by Gibbs’s hands on her upper arms. For a moment they had stood silently, Ellie breathing heavily from the initial shock, although perhaps it also had more than a little to do with her proximity to the man in front of her. Gibbs was looking at her, studying her face, and before she could speak, he had kissed her. It was soft, his lips ghosting across hers, tentatively asking permission, and Ellie gave it without question: lifting her arms around his neck she kissed him back wholeheartedly. And then it was over, and in the moment that Ellie had tried to gather her thoughts, Gibbs had gone. She had spent the better part of the next thirty minutes sitting at the kitchen table while the coffee went cold, trying to work out both what had just happened and what she should do about it. And after some back and forth thoughts that involved her either saying nothing for the time being or taking the initiative, she found herself here at the foot of the basement steps hoping to goodness that she wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.  
Ellie had paused for a moment, enough time for Gibbs to draw breath, shrug, and say,  
   “Yeah, I wanted to,” like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
   “But … but …”  
   “But what, Bishop?” She knew her flailing wouldn’t be helpful, not with Gibbs, but she was struggling to find solid ground here: the world she knew was changing by the second.  
   “But … what about rule 12? What about …” she began pacing, looking from the floor to Gibbs and back again, shaking her head, gesticulating with her arms, her body performing the confusion she was trying to articulate. Gibbs just stood still, a monument to calmness. “What about not dating colleagues? … I mean, I know we’re not dating but … you kissed me … does that mean you want to … to date me? … or … or what? … what does that mean?… You don’t just kiss someone … not if that someone doesn’t expect it … I mean, don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it, really enjoyed it … but you don’t ... not if that someone is me … and the one doing the kissing is you … Do you?”  
   Finally she stopped. She was closer to him now than before, but still far enough away to easily escape if she needed to. She thought that after that outburst her embarrassment levels were steadily climbing to the point where running away would be easier than staying and facing him. Gibbs listened to all this in silence, moving only to shift his weight from one foot to the other, settling himself and getting comfortable while he allowed Ellie to play this out. When she had stopped and her body had stilled its motion, he shrugged again, and, not answering the question at hand, simply responded,  
   “I like you.”  
   Ellie narrowed her eyes and leant in to examine him, “You like me?” she asked incredulously.  
   Another shrug, “Yeah. Thought you liked me too.”  
   Ellie didn’t know how she thought Gibbs would be in a conversation like this, had never thought she’d ever be in this situation with him in order to find out, but she was sure she would have expected awkwardness at the very least. Instead, he was calmness personified, his short, firm answers telling of his confidence in his actions, in the situation, and — dare she think it? — in his feelings.  
   “I do,” she uttered, her mind reeling once more, “I do … But …” she stopped, finding herself interrupted,  
   “But what?” Gibbs asked again, “we like each other. It happens”. Ellie was sure she would need a long time to process this — this was Gibbs, of course this was the way he would talk, the way he would approach things, but the things he was saying? She was sure she would never have expected him to say this as simply and as straightforwardly as he was. She moved closer, close enough for her sweater to brush his, and she looked up at him, her voice dropping low and serious as she spoke:  
   “Gibbs, I really like you. I mean really, really.”  
   “I know,” he said.  
   “You know? How can you … Never mind, of course you do. What I mean is, I have wanted to kiss you for a very, very long time now. And now I have, now we have … I need to know what this means, beyond that you like me.”  
   Rather than answer her, Gibbs raised his hand so his fingers gently brushed Ellie’s jaw, and softly, gently kissed her again. Then he sighed and looked down as he spoke, his voice low and heavy,  
   “It means yes,” he said, answering a question she wasn’t aware had been asked, “It means I want to try. If you do. I think you want it too.” Gibbs’s eyes had drawn level with Ellie’s once again, and she looked at him for a moment before nodding shortly, a small smile forming on her lips,  
   “Yes .. Yes … definitely.” And they stood for a moment before Gibbs began to turn, indicating his sandpaper and the wood over his shoulder,  
   “Are we done here?” he asked gently, “because I’d like to get back to this.” A wide grin spread across Ellie’s face in reply,  
   “Right. Yes. I’ll go make more coffee,” she said as she walked away, a spring in her step. Gibbs watched after her, his lips beginning to twitch into a smile.


End file.
